


A Cold Wind Blows

by CobaltBoba



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Poetry, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 15:52:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15561216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltBoba/pseuds/CobaltBoba
Summary: Even the most beautiful sights can become so,sopainful.(Or, the one where WonHui frequent a chilly hill)





	A Cold Wind Blows

A cold wind blows, it passes over a grassy hill. 

It shimmers over the viridian blades, over two boys laying side by side. The boys look upward, resting on their jackets and feeling the green ground tickle their exposed skin. Their skin makes contact as they whisper to each other secrets they’d keep from the world, quiet. Laughing quietly with each other, they enjoy each other’s company as they gaze up at the starry sky. The sky is reflected in the black-haired boy’s glasses as he holds an outstretched arm toward the stars. In response, stars streak across the sky and earn a gasp from the brown haired boy — he smiles and mirrors his companion’s movement. They stay like that, without moving, reaching for the painted night. The dark night is moonless, but the black haired boy does not mind. His mind is focused on the Moon beside him, for by his side, the cold wind breezes by unnoticed.

 

A cold wind blows, it passes over a grassy hill.

It circles over two boys wrapped around each other, whispering. The whispers of the night go unnoticed as they share tears, they drop sorrow and pain and love. Their love is illuminating, it renders the cloudy night sky a mere afterthought of elements outside of their control. They cannot control the swell of emotions as it rises, their grips tighten. Their chests are tight and their hearts ache, and the black-haired boy holds his companion as if he would slip out of his grasp at any moment. The moment is still, save for the pair swaying in the darkness. The trees begin to sway in the night, and the boys hold each other closer than they ever had before. The brown-haired boy offers his somber companion a smile. He smiles back and ruffles his hair, the cold breeze rustles in response. 

 

A cold wind blows, it passes over a grassy hill.

On the hill stands a boy, his black hair fluttering in response to the breeze. Black hair contrasts the color blooming across the hill, a change from the last time he had visited. Change can never be escaped. The boy squats under a tree to escape the beating sun, from there he surveys the meadow and its variety and beauty. Beautiful, he agrees, but nothing in comparison to his companion. Today his companion is missing, but the boy in glasses has already made plans to see him. A glass jar is used to collect the flowers, and to contrast the stark white of his room they are blue and pink and complementary. The boy’s cheeks are pink, but he knows that they will be no competition for the brown-haired boy’s response. He whistles as he descends the hill, the cold breeze whistles in response.

 

A cold wind blows, it passes over a grassy hill.

Green blades have faded into brown, and they’re stiff. The boy lying stiffly looks upward, ignoring the brown spikes poking into his skin and instead reaching his open palm toward the stars. A star, as if taunting, shoots by in response. If he had wished harder on the shooting stars, could this darkness have been averted? Dark is what this night isn’t, for the moon beams down on the black-haired boy, bright and full and beautiful. Never could it be as beautiful as the boy’s own Moon. Yet his Moon now rested among the stars, and he stretched out toward the painted night sky to plead to the universe to let them meet once more. Where his hand met the sky, the boy wanted to swear he could trace a new shape in the stars to mirror his gesture. The mirror of his glasses had fogged up, and he rose, cold. The cold breeze blew through his lone body, and he shivered in response.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry, again.... ><
> 
> I love:  
> \- Stargazing, Stars  
> \- when anime protags high five the night sky  
> \- Poetic stuff, even the fake poetic stuff  
> \- Jeon Wonwoo  
> \- Wen Junhui  
> \- Wen Junhui and Jeon Wonwoo together
> 
> I was in kinda a bad mood and ended up vent writing, and what came to me to write most easily were the things I loved. It ended up being a reflection of my feelings though... and so that ending... 
> 
> Actually it took a little bit to decide which 96 line duo to do write this on and my original thought was soonwoo, but I thought about it some more and I think I would’ve felt bad for (indirectly) killing Soonyoung again so., sorry junnie ><
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this little short story~
> 
> PS: if you want to feel worse go listen to Vanilla Twilight by Owl City


End file.
